Gilbert Doesn't Know
by lynne-monstr
Summary: Crack Fusion #1. Written for the kink meme for the prompt: Based on "Scotty Doesn't Know" from the Eurotrip movie . Summary - Gilbert was willing to wait until West was ready to take their relationship to the next level. What he didn't expect was to see him making out with Roderich, of all people. Austria/Germany, with mentions of Prussia/Germany. Crack, human names.


Note: The dialogue and lyrics are pretty much direct from _Eurotrip_ which I unfortunately do not own.

* * *

It was the after-party after the formal reception after a grueling week of conferences. Everyone was still a bit cranky and looking forward to letting their hair down. Francis, as the host, had completely outdone himself with the party preparations. It was all for naught, as the only thing anyone really cared about was the bar. It was well stocked and drinks were free, and so the event would be remembered fondly.

After helping themselves to a beverage (or three or four) people started gravitating towards the stage, drinks in hand. The band finished setting up and what looked to be the lead singer had just arrived. He was tattooed and pierced with dark wild hair everywhere and black painted nails, but with the dim lighting that's all anyone could make out.

He stepped out into the stage lights. It was Roderich.

At the front of the crowd, Gilbert choked, spraying beer everywhere. He was also a little turned on by the neck tattoo.

Matt, now drenched in beer, shot him a death glare, but no one noticed.

From the stage, Roderich looked out over the crowd and smirked. He'd been looking forward to this all week. Stepping forward, he tapped the microphone three times to ensure it was on.

"Hey listen up everybody. Got a little special thing I'd like to do tonight. Like to play a little song for you." His smirk grew into a full on leer and he continued. "About the nastiest, freakiest little sex puppet I know." Roderich paused for effect and licked his lips. "Ludwig." He drew it out, as if the name itself were something indecent.

The assembled nations went wild. Gilbert felt someone slam into him from behind, only to realize it was West. In shock, he watched the last person he ever expected march proudly up to the stage.

West, who refused to do more than kiss him because he 'wasn't ready yet' and wanted to 'take it slow'. West, whom Gilbert promised to wait for, even though it had now been over a century since they got together. His apparently-not-so-innocent other half approached Roderich until they were chest to chest. It was a complete violation of all of his brother's strict personal space rules. Gilbert couldn't believe what he was seeing.

With the hand not holding the microphone, Roderich reached up and grabbed Ludwig's neck, dragging him down for a kiss. It was less of a kiss and more that they tried to eat each other's faces. Finally, they broke apart and the band started playing.

_Gilbert doesn't know _

_That his brother and me _

_Do it on my piano every Sunday._

No fucking way. This was NOT happening. It was mortifying enough that West was cheating on him. Not to mention shouting it to the world. But with Roderich! Sissy boy piano-fucker! Gilbert downed the rest of his beer in one huge swallow.

_He tells him he's in church _

_But he doesn't go_

_Still he's on his knees and_

_Gilbert doesn't know…_

Roderich, that ass, was evidently enjoying himself. He was dancing so closely with West that it was practically vertical sex. If he wasn't feeling so shocked and betrayed Gilbert might have been turned on. He watched as West reached out and grabbed Roderich's hips in both hands, rutting against him without shame.

Next to him, Alfred tried discreetly to adjust himself at the erotic tableaux on display, but no one was fooled.

_Ludwig says he's at a meeting, _

_But he's under me and can't stop screaming_

Taking a small step back to give himself room to maneuver, West ripped off his suit jacket and (after doing a sexy dance with it) threw it into the crowd. Hands fought each other for the prize, but it was Ivan with his superior height who managed to wrestle it away in the end. Smiling, he brought the still warm garment to his face and inhaled deeply. He ignored the many disturbed glances sent his way at the action.

Gilbert needed some fucking air. He pushed past the crowd, plucked Arthur's drink right out of his hand (the guy was too drunk to care anyway) and found a quiet spot. He nursed his stolen beverage and felt sorry for himself. Even from out here, he could still just make out the chants of _Gilbert Doesn't Know_ above the roar of the crowd.

Feliks staggered by (wearing a very fetching miniskirt, he couldn't help but notice), wasted out of his mind.

"This band rocks!"


End file.
